


Sammy Was

by TheInverseUniverse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Guilty Dean, Hex Bags, Hurt Sam Winchester, One Shot, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Teenchesters, Temporary Character Death, Witches, allusion to angels, like major angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInverseUniverse/pseuds/TheInverseUniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How could this have happened? How could Sammy be... Sammy was...</p><p>Death was simple. An easy fix really. A quick trip upstairs, or down depending on the person, a little patching up, and that was it. ut as far as humans were concerned it was an all consuming point of no return.</p><p>And if you had greater things in store for you? It was never a question.<br/>------<br/>Dean's hunt hadn't gone well, but it was never meant to hurt the one person he held most precious. Sammy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sammy Was

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this features some temporary character death. It has a nice happy ending, but sometimes we just can't handle major characters kicking it. So if you're feeling like a little angst isn't the best thing for you today, pass this one up. Sam's about 14, with Dean 18. Unbetad, sadly. Enjoy!

Dean stomped into the motel room. This hunt had gone spectacularly and amazingly wrong. Not only had the witch gotten away, she had planted several more hex bags around the small town before high tailing it.

He threw his bag down on the carpet and shouted into the small room. “Sammy! You in here?”

The only response he got was a muffled gurgle from the back bedroom. He immediately ran back and was horrified by the sight he found.

Sam was lying in a puddle of his own blood with pink foam at his mouth.

“Sam!” shouted Dean frantically, at a higher pitch than he thought possible. He rushed over to his brother’s side. No no no no... this couldn’t be happening. Not Sammy. “Just-just hang on. You’ll be okay.”

He began tearing apart the room, frantically searching everywhere for the hex bag. All the while aware of his brother bleeding out on the floor. The drawers. No. Behind the furniture. No. Under the furniture. No. The beds. No. Anywhere and everywhere. NO!

Where was it?! Sammy couldn’t- if he- Dean wouldn’t even think the word. Not to Sammy. Where else could it be? He’d destroyed the whole motel room.

A noise called him back to Sam. He rushed over to where his brother was now attempting to cough, sending blood and pink foam into the air and onto Dean. But that didn’t matter. Sam mattered. The coughing didn’t seem to be doing anything towards fighting to clear his airway. It was just sending more blood up, and hurting him. “Oh no, please please please, Sammy. I don’t know where else to look!”

Dean hugged Sam tightly, holding him against his chest. Tears were running down his face and soaking the hair beneath him. “Please...”

To his horror he stopped feeling the pained breath below him. Dean panicked and laid Sam out against the floor, taking a pulse and finding only stillness beneath the fragile skin. No... No! This couldn’t be happening! Sam couldn’t be... no!

Frantically he started chest compressions. He channeled all his desperation into the shoves against Sam’s chest. His brother’s all too fragile chest. “Please, Sammy! You can’t! Stay with me! Please!”

The first crack Dean heard almost broke him along with the rib. God... He just broke Sam's rib. But he didn’t stop pushing. Every compression was another chance to save his brother’s life.

But nothing happened. After every set he checked for a pulse and found nothing. He looked for breathing and found nothing. He waited for Sammy to announce he was just kidding. And that it was a joke. It was only a joke. His brother wasn’t- Sam was fine. He had to be.

But it had been thirty minutes. Thirty minutes. Thousands of compressions. And five broken ribs. Each crack felt like his heart breaking all over again. Why? Why why why?!

Dean sat back, staring at his brother’s unmoving face in mute, frozen, numb, destroying, horrible, awful, soul crushing horror. Sammy was... How could it have happened? How could he have left his brother alone? HOW?

He had to do... something.

He had to tell... someone.

He had to...

He had...

He...

\------

Dean didn’t understand anything that was happening. He knew what was happening. But he didn’t understand it.

Sam was on a funeral pyre. Why was he up there? He shouldn’t be. He should be in the Impala. He should be complaining about missing school. He should be happy. He should be...

“Dean.”

Dean looked up. His dad had a hand on his shoulder. And he looked sad. Why was he sad? Sam was right there. They just had to go get him. They just had to wake him up. They just had...

His dad was talking again. “-can light it if you want.”

Light it? That would hurt Sammy. If they lit the funeral pyre Sammy would get burnt. They shouldn’t do that. They should get him down. They should...

“Dean.” Why is his dad so close to him? His dad has his hands on his shoulders. “This wasn’t your fault.”

What wasn’t his fault? Sam was fine. They just had to go wake him up. Why wasn’t his dad waking Sammy up? Why...

His dad was nodding. Then he walked over to the pyre. Was he waking Sam up? Wait, why did he have a lighter. Was he going to light the pyre? He couldn’t! Sam was up there! Sam was going to get burnt! Sam was...

Sammy was dead.

God, who was he kidding? His brother was dead. The brother who he carried out of that burning house. His brother who he raised and loved. His brother who even when they were fighting and at each other’s throats still secretly looked up to him. His brother was dead and it was his fault!

He killed his brother! He was a monster! His brother was dead! Sammy was dead! Sammy was gone and dead and never coming back!

He would never smile again. He would never tease Dean again. He would never bug the crap out of his secretly proud brother with an endless list of useless facts again.

Never again would he do anything.

And it was Dean’s fault.

He wiped at his eyes and felt tears there. He didn’t know when it started but they were falling and weren’t stopping. He felt someone wrap him in a tight hug and smelled the familiar combination of gunsmoke and cheap cologne. His dad held him against him as he sobbed into his chest. He brother was dead. Sammy was dead. Dead dead dead. Gone.

He pulled back, still feeling the tears and stared at the body with flames just underneath. His dad had lit the pyre, and soon there wouldn’t be anything left of Sam. Nothing to possibly get left behind. They had to make sure he was gone for good. Forever.

The first wisp of smoke had started to rise up when he heard the cough. He looked at his dad and saw he was frozen too. He saw the figure on the pyre sit up and cough some more.

Sammy.

Sam was alive! And he was on a burning pyre! Dean raced towards his brother, his only thought being to get him away from the flames. He grabbed his coughing brother and lifted him bridal style, carrying him far away from the flames. He carefully set him down and stared.

Sammy was alive.

“D-dean?” God he never thought he’d hear that voice again. Wide doey eyes looked up at him, sparkling with confusion. “What’s going on? Why was I on a fire?”

Dean couldn’t do anything but hug him. His brother was alive! Sammy was okay! “Oh thank god,” he whispered into the brown hair he thought he’d never tease his brother about again.

Sam shifted again. “Dean? What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

Dean heard a tense voice say his name. His dad was still there. “We need to test him”

“He’s not a demon!” snapped Dean. How could his dad think that a monster was possessing his brother’s body? His brother was alive!

“Dean! Dad!” shouted Sam. He had shoved his way fully out of Dean’s arms and was standing up. “What the hell is going on? Why was I on a funeral pyre and why do you think I’m a demon?!”

John clenched his jaw. Dean knew that he was terrified, and wanted Sam to be back as much as him, but he clearly was thinking straighter. He turned to his son, “Sam... I’ll explain everything in a minute just let me do a couple tests, okay?”

“Okay...” relented Sam, looking at his family suspiciously and holding out his arm.

John poured holy water on his arm, then cut made a small cut with a silver knife. Sam winced slightly but didn’t react beyond that. As soon as he pressed a bandanna to the wound John wrapped him in a giant hug. “Thank god. I thought I lost you, son.”

Sam hugged back, not one to pass up what he deemed normal fatherly affection. “Why what happened? All I can remember is getting home from school, and then a weird dream.”

“Dream?” wondered Dean. What dreams did someone have when they’re dead?

Sam nodded and extracted himself from his dad’s arms. “Yeah. I was in this white room and there was this woman... she kind of looked like a principal. She said I was too early, and this would ruin all the plans. She said I had to go back, and then I woke up. Guys, seriously. Please just explain.”

“The witch got away,” said Dean abruptly, attempting to explain but only getting a confused look. “She managed to plant more hex bags, and when I got back to the room I found you...” He closed his eyes and swallowed. This wasn’t something he could forget, no matter how hard he tried. “You were choking on your own blood.”

Sam stared at him wide eyed. “What?” He looked down at himself for injuries but found none and look back to his brother.

Dean nodded, fighting down emotions. “Yeah... the witch had planted a hex bag. I-I tore apart the whole room, but I couldn’t find it. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t. I went back over to you, and you weren’t moving. You didn’t have a pulse!”

The look of understanding and horror that spread over his brother’s face as he looked at the pyre felt like a knife in the gut. Sammy shouldn’t be going through this. “I-I tried CPR for half an hour, I tried so hard!” He vaguely registered that he was crying. “But it didn’t work. I must have passed out, because when Dad got there he found us both laying in a puddle of your blood.” He laughed sharply, almost hysterically. “I’m sure that was fun. He woke me up and we knew we had to take care of your body, so we came out here. But then suddenly you weren’t dead.”

He felt small but strong arms wrap around him and he squeezed back, assuring himself that his brother was okay.

Sammy was alive.

\------

Dean stretched and grinned as he sat up off the bed. Last night’s hunt had been awesome. They managed to gank the witch, and he got to do the honors.

He yawned as he walked over to the bathroom but paused when he passed his brother’s bed. There was something he was supposed to remember... It was probably something small and unimportant. He suddenly felt the urge to lean down and give Sam a hug.

What was that? He didn’t do chick flick moments and there wasn’t any reason to be worried about him, Sam had gotten to stay home and watch TV during the hunt last night.

Dean kept walking and suddenly froze and stepped a few feet around a spot on the carpet. What was going on with him? He shook it off and went into the bathroom. He spotted his favorite Metallica shirt on the ground with a pile of Sam’s clothes.

Sammy was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> So there you go. You know, even as I wrote that I wasn't sure who brought him back. That's the beauty of art (writing included). What I wrote might be completely different than what you read. I hope you really liked this, and maybe even figured out who did it.


End file.
